Undercover Heart
by elsinore
Summary: Dominique Weasley dreams of being an investigative journalist but instead she's stuck as the personal advice columnist for the Daily Prophet. When she lands her first undercover assignment, her chance to become a real reporter rides on her old Hogwarts rival, the arrogant Lysander Scamander, and it might be more dangerous than either of them expect.
1. Chapter 1

"Dear Margot, your problems really aren't my problems."

Puffing out a quick exhalation, Dominique backspaced quickly.

"Dear Margot, why don't you ask your mother for advice so I can do something more fun with my time than fix your life?"

Another emphatic deletion.

"Dear Margot, do you have any ideas for a breaking story so I don't have to sit here helping pathetic people like you anymore?" she typed in sharp, staccato rhythm.

Dom groaned loudly and deleted the sentence for the third time. If only Margot could solve her own damn problems. "And then I'd be out of a job," Dom muttered under her breath.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that?" A bright grin flashed down at her.

Dom flicked her gaze up to meet the piercing hazel eyes that she knew would be waiting for her. "Shut it." Pretending to be intensely focused, she pounded out yet another curt line to Margot on her keyboard.

The tall man leaned against the edge of her desk and brushed a hand through his coiffed, coffee-colored hair. "What's the dilemma this time? A lost cat, perhaps?" He peered over her shoulder. "Ah, the poor, heartbroken Margot!" he exclaimed dramatically, clutching a hand to his heart.

She spun from her computer and fixed him with an angry glare. "Don't make me tell you again. Leave me alone!"

He held up two hands in mock protest. "Oh no, didn't mean to interrupt your essential work. I was on my way to a meeting with the big guy anyway." Jerking a thumb in the direction of the Editor-in-chief's office, he winked, pushed himself off her desk, and strode down the aisle of the huge newsroom.

Seething at his retreating back, Dom found she couldn't muster up any energy to concentrate on her reply to poor, pathetic Margot. Lysander Scamander had everything she wanted: a top investigative reporting job at the _Daily Prophet_, enough charisma to be the boss's favorite, and the glory of having graduated at the top of their Hogwarts class. It was disgusting, actually.

Not to take credit from him, because the truth was, the man was brilliant, and that much had been evident from day one of Transfiguration in their First Year. But she had only ever been the smallest bit behind him, every step of the way, and while he got called into important meetings with Editor Barnabas Cuffe, she was stuck out in the muck of the newsroom chipping away at her daily personal advice column. It just wasn't fair.

Dom pushed reddish-blond bangs from her eyes and stared at the huge, vintage clock on the far wall of the massive room. She let her gaze linger on the bustle of the Daily Prophet newsroom, its cubicles packed with over-eager secretaries and cocky reporters dashing off last minute stories. The smell of ink hung in the air and the sound of the printing press cranking out pages made her long for some excitement. She had always known she belonged in a newsroom just like this, but she had never imagined her experience inside of it would consist of giving love advice to Margot, and thousands like her.

For the past two years since she had graduated school and gotten this job at the Prophet through her Aunt Ginny, Dom had known something was missing. She wanted the thrill of the chase and the adrenaline rush of covering an actual beat, not the crazy sob stories of half the wizarding world. But because she didn't have high-up connections ready to pull strings for her, she was stuck in a desk nine hours a day, while Lysander got an investigative column and a free pass to hobnob with all of the big shots at the _Daily Prophet_. Her dad was right, life was unfair.

_Ring! Ring ring!_ The desk phone cut into her reverie. "_Daily Prophet_, this is Dominique Weasley."

"Dom, it's Rose. You got a sec?"

Dom inspected a neatly trimmed fingernail. "I've got all the time in the world. Margot's problems can wait."

"Who's Margot? Wait, nevermind. Listen I know it's almost quitting time over there but I wanted to tell you something. I was at the big Wizengamot meeting this afternoon-"

"Please don't remind me you get to go to cool meetings while I have to sit here all day," Dom cut her cousin off, stomach twisting with envy.

Rose scoffed. "As if! Being stenographer for the most stuffy group of witches and wizards in the world is hardly an exciting day of work. But seriously, I've got something you might find interesting. You're always looking for some mysterious story, you little sleuth."

Dom's ears pricked up at the mention of mystery. "I'm no detective, but we both know I need a breaking story or something to get me out of this personal advice gig."

"I know, I know, so shut up and hear me out," Rose insisted. "Caspar Bomsnox hasn't been to a Wizengamot meeting in over two months! At first I didn't think it was anything, but every time someone asks his secretary about it, she hedges and won't reply. Kingsley-er, Minister Shacklebolt, I mean-won't say anything publicly but it's obvious he doesn't know what's going on either."

Dom furrowed her brow. "Bomsnox…isn't he the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? He can't just vanish without everyone knowing where he is. And he's the liaison to all of the foreign Ministries of Magic."

"Exactly, so something fishy is definitely going on. Honestly I don't know if it's even a story, but I figured it couldn't hurt to give you the tip, right?"

A frustrated looking witch approached Dom's tiny, cluttered desk. "Do you have that column or not?" she snapped in a hoarse voice. "We'll need to fill the space with an extra advertisement if you can't get it done."

Dom nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get to it, Bertha. Give me fifteen." Turning back to the phone, she spoke to her cousin under her breath. "Gotta dash, Rose. They're gonna convert my essential column to ad space if I don't hurry. But thanks for the tip, this might be great."

Slamming the phone back into its receiver, she gave her copy editor her first genuine smile in what felt like months. "I'm on it, don't get your knickers in a twist."

The smell of salt rushed up to greet her as she landed on solid ground after Apparating. Dom watched a lazy seagull wing its way across the sky, heading down in the direction of the beach. What she really wanted to do was follow it and run in the surf and let the waves wash over her feet until she forgot about everything else. But what she had to do was go inside and deal with her family.

Suppressing a groan, she headed up the narrow gravel path to the front door of Shell Cottage. Rather than alert anyone to her presence, though, Dom snuck up the stairs, skipping the creaky seventh step, and trod the long hallway to her old bedroom.

She cracked the door open and poked her head inside. Just as she'd left it. Childhood toys and books rested on a bookcase, a faded Montrose Magpies poster still moved weakly as its roster from several years ago zoomed in and out of focus. The two, small twin beds sat solidly side by side in the little room. If she closed her eyes, she could picture Victoire sitting propped up on the bed by the window, painting her nails a vibrant pink.

"_Teddy's sneaking in here soon, so you'd better be gone fast!" Victoire hissed at her younger sister._

"_It's my room, too, why do I have to leave?" Dom retorted quietly, looking up from her book._

_Victoire tossed her glossy ponytail and rolled her eyes. "Mum and Dad don't know he'll be here, and if they knew then we couldn't be alone."_

_Dom briefly considered telling her parents that her older sister was sneaking a boy - albeit one they all knew well - into her bedroom. But then Victoire would hate her even more than she already did, and it wasn't worth causing more fights. "Fine."_

"_You'll understand someday, Dom," said Victoire patronizingly._

_But Dom understood now, and the thought of Teddy spending time alone in their bedroom with Victoire made her stomach turn. She shut her book fast and tried not to think about what they might be doing in here once she left. Ignoring her older sister's hasty preparations she dashed out to find sanctuary in Louis' room._

"Hey, sis, thanks for telling me you'd be back," a voice broke into her thoughts.

Dom jumped, brought back from the unpleasant memory. "Lou!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her brother who, though two years younger, maintained quite an advantage in height. "I haven't seen you in ages! How was first term?"

"Oh, you know." He shrugged. "School's school. Seventh year is just as boring as sixth. Probably got decent grades, though nothing like yours were."

She let out a laugh. "My grades were only good because I had hardly any friends. You've got swaths of chums, not to mention girls begging for your attention. Letting your grades slip is just part of the package."

"Merlin, you make me sound like Vicky!" he protested, raking a hand through unruly blond hair. "I work sometimes you know."

But the grin had fallen from his sister's face.

"Cheer up there, kid. I don't think Vicky's coming for supper tonight if that's what's got you worried. Mum's going mad about it, but you know how it is." Louis ruffled his sister's hair. "I'm surprised you even made it."

She wandered to the bookcase slowly and let her gaze linger on the heaping stacks of books she had devoured eagerly as a child. "Well it is almost Christmas, I figured I'd make Mum and Dad happy and try to come around more often. Besides, I need to talk to Dad about a lead I may have turned up."

"Hey, look at you!" he snatched a bouncy ball from the shelf beside her and began drumming it against the floor. "Gonna be a famous reporter after all? Though don't get me wrong, I do shell out a Knut once in a while to read your advice column."

Glancing out the window at the backyard full of trees and the ocean view just beyond it, Dominique felt a heavy weight settle on her. Being home always crowded her mind with memories she wanted to keep locked away.

"You know Mum told Vicky you'd be home tonight but she and Teddy are probably…" his voice trailed off. "Dom? Hello? What're you contemplating in there, it's like I lost you," Louis chirped, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

He pegged the ball at the floor once again. "This about Teddy?"

"What about him?" Dom's gaze snapped over to her brother.

Louis gave her a meaningful stare. "Dom, everyone knows you've had a thing for him since you were about seven."

A lump rose in her throat and she took a deep breath to steady herself. "He's with Vicky. He always will be. I don't want to hear another word about it." Tossing the book from her hand onto the nearest bed, she pushed past her brother and jogged down the stairs.

"Dominique, darling, is that you?" came an airy call from the kitchen.

Dom stood at the front door, toying briefly with the idea of going back to her rundown apartment in the city and forgetting all about trying to be nicer to her family. But after a moment's hesitation, she realized it was probably too late for that. "Hey, Mum."

Fleur breezed into the foyer and embraced her middle child tightly. "I was starting to think you might never come back."

"It's only been a couple months," Dom grumbled into her mother's shoulder.

"And we all know she only came back for Lou anyway," Bill's gruff voice pointed out with a low chuckle from the kitchen.

Louis bounded down the stairs two at a time behind her. "I've always been her favorite." He squeezed her shoulder, letting her know he had forgiven her outburst already. That was why he was her favorite; he saw the bad parts of her and always knew how to love her anyway.

It was a gift too few people in the world possessed.


	2. Chapter 2

Dom glared at the page in front of her on the computer screen. Two measly bullet points stared back at her:

- Bomsnox missing from Wizengamot

- Secretary says he's in poor health, but he was seen at a Quidditch game just last week

Was it enough? She was about to pitch what was probably her hundredth attempt at getting herself put on an investigative story. She had tried every angle. What was one more failure after all of that? Dom hopped to her feet and pushed her desk chair in. Now or never.

Striding through the rows of newsroom cubicles and long tables, she felt slightly sick to her stomach. For a brief moment, she wished that she knew how to turn on the Veela charm the same way her sister did. But she banished that thought immediately. That had been tried, and that had failed.

"Where are you heading off to?" Lysander's loud voice broke into her panicked thoughts. He fell into step beside her, tracing the path up to the editor-in-chief's office.

_I definitely don't need this right now_. "Leave me alone."

A smug grin fixed itself on his handsome face. "Ah, off to pitch another story, are you?"

Determined to ignore him, she stopped at Barnabas Cuffe's office door and waited just a moment.

"Are you going to knock, or should I do that for you?" Lysander inquired, leaning up against the wall beside her.

She steeled herself and turned to face him. "I'm only going to ask you once. Step away from the door. You might get everything you want, and you might've beaten me in school by the skin of your teeth. But if I tell you to leave me the hell alone, then you damn well had better listen."

His hazel eyes widened, as if for a brief second he had actually been caught off guard. Rather than shoot back a witty remark like she expected, Lysander stepped away from the door and said quietly, "Best of luck."

Not wasting a moment reflecting on the fact that she had just lost her temper at him _again_, Dom forced herself to quit stalling and rapped quickly on the door to the editor's office.

"Yeah, what is it?"

She pushed into the wide room and swallowed hard. This never got any easier.

"Dominique, what is it, how can I help you?" Barnabas Cuffe muttered in a flurry of words, papers flying from his hands as she shut the door behind her. "Don't tell me it's another story idea."

Dom gave him an apologetic shrug.

Cuffe let out an elongated sigh. "Okay, let's get this over with, doll."

_This time, it's gotta work. It has to._ She settled herself onto the edge of a chair, afraid to get too comfortable. "The Head of Magical Law Enforcement hasn't been to a Wizengamot meeting in over two months."

He still looked irritated, but he hadn't yelled at her yet. That was a good sign to continue.

"His secretary claims he's ill, but he was seen at a Quidditch game just last week," she added.

"And you've spoken to his secretary directly?" Cuffe inquired.

Dom gave a short nod.

He leaned back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head. For a second she thought she saw that frustrated look coming, the one that would send her scrambling from his office once again. But instead, he simply furrowed his brow. "Interesting."

That had to be the most wonderful word Dom had heard in her whole life. Until a moment later, when he bellowed, "Scamander, get in here!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Lysander seemed to appear in the room, calmly pushing the door open. "What's up, boss?"

_He just casually says 'what's up?' to Cuffe?_ she squawked internally.

"Miss Weasley here tells me Bomsnox been gone from the Wizengamot for months. How did you miss this?" Cuffe snapped.

For the second time in the past five minutes, Lysander actually looked somewhat chastened. "I hadn't heard."

Cuffe rolled his eyes. "That much is evident. If we get beaten to this story I'm going to be livid. Dominique, tell this foolish young man what you just told me."

Clearing her throat quickly, Dom turned to face him. He placed his hands on the back edge of the chair beside her and gave her an expectant look.

"His secretary was being pretty dodgy. Said he was ill, and wouldn't answer me when I said he'd been seen at a Quidditch match last week," Dom told him, not able to stop a slightly smug smile from creeping onto her face.

Lysander's gaze flicked away from her fast. "Don't worry, boss, I'm on it." He turned to go.

"Wait just a minute." Cuffe's small eyes traveled from his young investigative reporter to the nervous looking girl before him. "You two are working together on this."

"What?!" both Dom and Lysander yelled simultaneously.

Her blue eyes snapped to meet his hazel, but he was staring aghast at their editor.

"You heard me. Dominique brought the story to me and she deserves a shot at investigating. You bring her with you, let her ask questions, let her call some of the shots."

Lysander's brows shot upwards and he shook his head furiously. "No, absolutely not. This could be a big story, I'm not letting a kid trail around with me."

Dom rolled her eyes. "We graduated from the same class at Hogwarts, Lysander, I'm hardly a kid."

"See, there you have it. You two will make a great team." Cuffe smiled placidly.

"You've got to be kidding me," Lysander groaned, loosening his tie in frustration.

Before Dom's grin got too out of control, though, Cuffe faced her. "And you. Listen to Scamander here. He's in charge. This is your first real story, so don't go thinking you're some expert, and don't screw this up. This doesn't mean anything permanent."

Her heart dropped a little at his words, but being put on this story was more than she could've hoped for already so she didn't speak up.

Cuffe picked up a group of papers and went back to shuffling through them. "I want a preliminary story ready to run by Friday. Get out of here."

Not even sparing a glance at her, Lysander turned and strode from the room. Dom rose from her chair and prepared to follow him, but Cuffe spoke again. "Don't let him get to you. He's not a bad guy deep down," the man told her with a wink.

Dom very much doubted that. Years of trying to beat Lysander in school had gotten her closer to him than she wanted to be, and he had never revealed anything deeper than a massive ego and a penchant for making fun her failures. And now her very first real story depended on his help. Giving Cuffe a brief smile and a "thanks, boss," she hurried after her new partner.

"So what're we doing first?" she asked, taking three long steps to try and catch up with his quick strides.

He wheeled to face her. "_We_ aren't doing anything. This is my story and you're tagging along. I'll let you know if I need coffee."

Dom's mouth dropped open. He began stalking down the aisle of the newsroom and entered his office, positioned on the far wall in the row of investigative offices. _I am not about to let him do this_, she told herself angrily, and stormed after him, wedging herself through the door and following him to his desk.

"Get out of here, Dominique," he muttered tiredly.

"I'm not leaving until we talk. I realize you think you're better than me because you barely squeaked ahead of me in school for seven years. I realize you have a great job and you're a boy wonder and you don't need me on this story. But this is my one chance to impress Cuffe and get promoted from my stupid personal advice column." Her blue eyes were wide and little wisps of red-blonde hair escaped her ponytail.

Lysander arched a dark eyebrow. "So what. You might need me, but I don't need you."

Dom set her jaw. "That's what you think." She glanced around the little office and noticed stacks of paper strewn everywhere, uncapped pens littering the top of his desk, boxes stacked haphazardly in the corner. "I'm as organized as it gets, I remember details, I can be invisible when you need me to be, and best of all, I got you this story. That has to count for something."

He eyed her thoughtfully, sinking into his desk chair. "You're not taking the lead, no way."

"I don't want the lead, Lysander." She bit her tongue and forced out her next words. "I want to learn from you. Maybe Cuffe's right, we could make a good team."

Lysander let out a sharp laugh. "We're not going to be a team. But I'll let you tag along. You're in charge of the paperwork, I'll deal with the people skills. We leave for the Ministry first thing tomorrow morning. Finish your measly paragraph of relationship advice and be ready to go."

Gritting her teeth, she watched him for a moment, weighing the value of starting another fight. Not worth it. She would pick her battles. But she was going to win the war.


	3. Chapter 3

Dom eyed herself in the mirror and wished for the thousandth time that she had gotten her mother's Veela looks. Technically she was an eighth Veela, but that was not at all evident from her reddish locks and smattering of freckles. The Weasley side of her family was certainly much more exciting than her French relatives, but she would always curse them for bestowing her with her appearance.

A loud rap on the door startled her. "Would you hurry up? We're going to miss our appointment."

She heaved a sigh and pushed her bangs out of her eyes. That was probably as good as it was going to get. Jerking the bathroom door open, she eyed Lysander with some irritation. "I came in bloody two hours early for this, you don't have to be such a grouch."

He flashed a grin. "You want an investigative beat then you put up with crazy hours. I don't want to hear you complaining anymore, got it?"

Dom grabbed a quill and notebook from her desk as she struggled to keep up with his quick pace down the aisle of the newsroom.

"Leave that here," he barked. "And walk faster."

Rather than speeding up, she came to a full halt. "How am I supposed to take notes for you without paper."

Noticing that she was no longer a pace behind him, Lysander pivoted slowly to face her. "You remember things and type them all up later," he enunciated. "If this is too difficult for you, I'm happy to hire another secretary."

Her blue eyes went wide. "I'm not your secretary! I'm on this story just like you are."

"I wouldn't say 'just like me,'" he qualified, pursing his lips. "Look, once you've actually written something other than a measly personal advice column then we'll talk. Until then, you're lucky I'm letting you tag along." He turned around once again, not seeming to care that everyone in the newsroom was beginning to stare. "And don't make me tell you to walk faster again."

Dominique stared agape at his quickly retreating back, clothed in a professional, dark suit coat. "I'm going to kill him, I really am," she muttered, scurrying after him.

When they reached the lobby, Lysander grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the mantle of the massive fireplace and motioned for her to do the same. "Ladies first," he directed with another dazzling smile, as if she had imagined his curt attitude from moments before.

Resolving not to let him get under her skin and ruin her first investigative trip, Dom took some Floo powder and hurried to toss it into the fireplace. "Ministry of Magic," she enunciated carefully. The last thing she needed was to get lost somewhere in London.

Moments later, they both stood in the bustling entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. Without a word to her, Lysander took off, dress shoes clacking sharply against the polished marble floor.

_This assignment has been much more exercise than I ever expected_, Dom grumbled internally, smoothing down her gray skirt and hurrying along, dodging witches and wizards as she struggled to keep up with his quick stride.

She followed along behind him all the way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement until he came to an abrupt halt at the lobby desk where a blonde witch stared at a computer screen.

"Good morning," he announced, causing her to jump.

"Yeah what's up?" she snapped, typing rapidly.

Lysander pasted a broad smile on his face and maintained eye contact with the young witch. "We're here to meet with Edward Pennysworth."

Suddenly, a smile appeared on the receptionist's face and she toyed with her necklace, devoting her full attention to the young, handsome wizard. "Oh sure, let me just check the appointment schedule."

"No need," Lysander assured her. "He knows we'll be here."

She frowned at her computer screen. "I don't have any appointments scheduled for him. You know he's filling in for…" Her voice trailed off. "Never mind. You can't see him if you don't have an appointment."

Dominique knew they couldn't say they were from the _Prophet_ or it would tip the girl off to the fact that they were looking into Bomsnox's absence. She was tempted to speak up and try to provide some sort of cover, anything to show Lysander she belonged with him on this trip. But he beat her to it.

"Pennysworth is an old family friend, and I don't think he'd be too happy to find us out here in the waiting room because you were too obsessed about your little calendar." That was more like the arrogant, over-confident Lysander that Dominique was used to. But his warm smile was still firmly placed on his face. "I wouldn't want you to get in any trouble with him."

The girl blushed and nodded. "Well, thanks. I totally understand. Go ahead in, I assume you know where you're going?"

Dom eyed the long, narrow corridor to their right with skepticism, but Lysander nodded emphatically. "We've got it, thanks so much for your help."

Not bothering with a second glance back, he strode away from the front desk and down the hallway as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"How did you manage that?" Dominique hissed as she caught up to him. "And how did you know this Pennysworth was filling in for Bomsnox?"

Lysander gave her a look that was half cocky and half pitying. "You're working with the master, Dominique. And if you could keep your voice down that would be splendid." He rapped twice on the last door on the left.

"Come in."

Lysander pushed the door open boldly. "Mr. Pennysworth! A pleasure to see you." Pausing only momentarily to let Dom squeeze in the door behind him, he shut the door firmly and strode to the huge desk by the window where a small wizard sat. He extended a hand. "Dexter McMillan with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Goblin Liaison Office. This is my colleague Barbara Fanglesnoof."

Dom almost slapped him.

Edward Pennysworth narrowed his eyes as he shook Lysander's hand slowly. "I don't have any appointments scheduled. I'm only the assistant head of Magical Law Enforcement, I don't see why anyone would need to meet with me."

Lysander glanced at Dom and furrowed his brow. "Oh, really? We were told you were the main contact point for law enforcement for the foreseeable future. Is that not the case?"

Pennysworth's eyes darted right and left and back to them. "What exactly is the issue you need assistance with?"

Lysander sank into a chair and waved a hand at Dom. "Do sit, Barbara. I trust that's alright, Mr. Pennysworth? Ed? May I call you Ed?" His bright, hazel eyes sparkled with mirth.

"Erm, I'm not sure." Pennysworth crossed his arms and eyed them both warily.

"Ed, the issue is Gringotts. We've been having quite a hard time with the head goblins and setting the interest rates for the upcoming year. Vargot and I have really reached an impasse in our discussions and we can't seem to agree on the appropriate rate. Since you're in charge of law enforcement for the time being, I thought you'd be the best person to help us resolve the dilemma."

_Where in the bloody hell did he come up with that nonsense?_ Dom wondered. She hated to admit it, but he was even better at this investigative business than she had imagined.

Pennysworth rifled with a few papers on his desk. "Truth of the matter is, I've got quite a lot to deal with these days what with Caspar…" he trailed off. "Well, let's just say I have more to balance than usual."

Lysander nodded slowly, surveying the massive stacks of folders that almost obscured their view of the wizard across from them. "I can see you're a bit overloaded. Do you have any idea when you might have a break from all of this work?"

_Absolutely brilliant_, Dom grumbled spitefully to herself.

"There's really no end in sight. I've gotten so many new cases to deal with just in the past month, and I haven't been given any time to look for an assistant." The wizard shook his head and sighed heavily. "I'm sorry to say I probably can't help much at all until I've at least hired a secretary. This transition could be permanent for me for all I know."

Lysander's left eyebrow tweaked up just slightly, taken aback at the revelation. But he didn't miss a beat. "I've got a splendid idea. What if Barbara here filled in for a bit, just until you can hire someone full time. I do keep her quite busy, but I can spare her for a few hours a day if that would help you out."

Dom's jaw dropped. It was a perfect idea, actually, having an reporter on the inside...but the idea that the reporter would be her! She had never thought such a thing would be possible. She didn't know if she was excited or nervous.

Pennysworth's small eyes shifted over to her. "You haven't said a word this whole time, do you even speak?" he snapped.

Dom gulped. "I-I, of course I do."

He pursed his lips. "I suppose if you help me out for a bit here I can find time to look through some papers on the interest rate issue. Are you organized?"

Before Dom could speak up for herself, Lysander got to his feet. "I can personally assure you, Ed, that she is the most organized and thorough witch you've ever met. I'll have Barb come on up here every afternoon for a few hours until you can find a replacement. Thanks so much for your time."

Stunned, she followed him from the room and back down the hall. It wasn't until they had reached the loud, crowded main anteway to the Ministry that she found her voice. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped at him, putting a hand on his arm and trying to slow his efficient stride.

Lysander cast a puzzled look down at her. "You can thank me at any point."

"Thank you?! For Barbara Fanglesnoof?" Her voice was a strangled squeak.

"Yes, Barbara, dear. I just got you your first real undercover assignment, so don't be ungrateful." He looked away from her and began his path back to the fireplaces. "Besides, you're lucky I made you my colleague and not my intern."

Her mouth gaped open as she once again trailed after him, pushing a frustrated hand through her tangled red locks. "You just made me some guy's secretary."

Lysander whirled around to face her again. "He's not some guy. He's clearly the replacement for Bomsnox and he's our best chance at getting an inside scoop. Stop complaining and be grateful. We're going back to work to write the opening piece, either shut up and come help me or go home for the day."

Dom's eyes blazed with contained anger. His cocky attitude had been plaguing her for almost ten years and she'd had enough. But the fact was, he _had_ gotten her a huge undercover break, and if she wanted to escape a life of drudgery writing personal advice columns every day, winning him over was her only chance. "I'll shut up," she muttered, following him to the fireplace. _But not forever_, she vowed.


	4. Chapter 4

Dominique burst into Lysander's office, a triumphant grin blazing across her face. "Look what I have."

Annoyed, Lysander glanced up from his computer briefly. "You could at least knock."

Choosing to ignore his curt tone, she brandished a piece of paper at him. "Do you even care what this paper is?"

"Unless it's a snappy opening line for this story I really don't care." His hazel eyes were transfixed on the screen.

Dominique blinked at him slowly. "You know, you might be a genius and everything, but you can be really narrow-minded sometimes."

That got his attention. His gaze snapped up at her. "What is it you want, Dominique."

She almost told him to call her Dom, but decided against it. Choosing to let her work speak for itself, she placed the paper down on the edge of his desk and stepped back.

Still appearing exasperated, he snatched the paper and skimmed over it. A moment later, his eyes widened just the tiniest bit, and she knew she'd taken him by surprise. "This is gold. Where did you get this?"

Dom couldn't keep a small, slightly smug smile from tweaking up the corners of her mouth. "Pennysworth's office."

His pleased expression vanished in an instant. "You took this from his office?"

"Obviously. It's perfect! It's hard evidence that Pennysworth is taking over for Bomsnox because no one can find him," Dom exhaled in a rush of words. She had snatched the letter from a stack in her boss' office and she knew it would be the perfect amount of evidence for their opening story.

Lysander shook his head. "You might have gotten Cuffe to buy into this story, but you have the journalistic instincts of the Whomping Willow." He tossed the paper back onto his desk. "You can't take evidence from a suspect's office, Dominique! What if he notices it's gone? What if he realizes you're the only person who could have taken it? What if your cover is blown and we have no way to finish this story?"

A lump popped up in her throat. He was right, she was an idiot. Why hadn't she thought of any of that? "I-"

"But obviously you wouldn't consider those things because you've never covered a real story and you've only ever been second best." His caustic tone bit into her.

Dom's breath caught in her throat.

_His hazel eyes flashed brightly as a cocky grin slashed across his face. "Once again," he scoffed, folding his arms across his broad chest._

_Dominique's gaze flicked from him to the list posted on the wall of the hallway. It read out its horrifying message:_

_Hogwarts Fifth Year Class Results_

_1.__Lysander Scamander_

_2.__Dominique Weasley_

_The rest of the list disappeared in a blur of tears that swarmed to her eyes without any warning. He had beaten her. Again. He always came in first in their class, every year, without fail. And every year she came in second. In the one thing she was good at, her school work, Lysander always managed to squeak ahead. And he never let her forget it._

_"Hey, better luck next year, Weasley." He gave her a hard nudge with his elbow. "Maybe a little more time studying and a little less time chasing the Slytherin Quidditch Captain?"_

_Her heart thudded in her chest as she watched his irritating smile remained fixed on his face and he flashed her a wink. She hated him._

But there were no tears in her eyes as she faced him now. The only emotion welling up inside of her was burning, churning anger.

Though she felt like she might explode, Lysander's voice was cool and calm, but as biting as it always had been. "Go back to his office this second. Make up an excuse. Take this paper back there and put it exactly where you found it." Not even meeting her eye, he turned back to the computer screen and began typing.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," Dom managed to choke out.

He let out a short bark of a laugh. "That much is obvious."

Once again he was a step ahead of her, and instead of merely hurting her pride, it was hurting her chance at a reporter's job. Spinning around, she fled, before her fury could come pouring out in a stream of curse words. But she realized she had no one to be angry with but herself.

Swallowing a deep gulp of air, and feeling none of the joy or confidence she had felt last time she faced his office door, Dominique reached up and knocked tentatively.

"What is it?" his sharp tone inquired.

She pushed the door opened and stepped inside slowly, hardly able to look him in the eye. "I returned the letter without him noticing and I copied down exactly what it said so you can use it in the story." She held the copied paper out to him.

One of his straight, dark eyebrows flicked up. "Thank you." He took it from her outstretched hand.

Dom turned to go, sure that if she stayed a moment longer he would find another reason to cut her to pieces.

"Dominique."

She didn't turn around, but paused with her hand on the doorknob.

"Wait a second, would you?"

_So now he decides to use a polite tone?_ Dom remained still, not facing him, but not opening the door to leave.

Lysander let out a heavy sigh. "You can look at me, I'm not going to fly off the handle again."

Her blue eyes were wide as she pivoted to face him once more.

"Sit down for a second." He gestured to one of the two, red plush chairs in front of his desk.

Feeling her palms begin to sweat, she took an uneasy seat on the edge of a chair and waited for the storm to begin again.

He pushed his fingertips together, elbows resting on his desk as his hazel eyes bored into her. "I'd like to apologize."

Dom couldn't have been more shocked if he had jumped from his seat and begun dancing a jig.

"Don't get me wrong," he continued with a small, wry smile. "You messed up big time."

_Of course. Even when apologizing he wouldn't miss a chance to point out my stupidity._

"But there was no excuse for the way I treated you earlier. I'm the superior journalist on this team and I'm supposed to be teaching you how this works, not scaring you out of your shoes."

Though his words were as condescending as she would expect his apology to be, Dom could see a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes.

"Honestly, Dominique, there's a lot riding on this story." Lysander pushed a hand through his coffee-colored hair, a gesture she had become accustomed to in their week working together. "I'm known as the boy wonder around here, and that comes with its perks, but it also means a lot is expected of me. This is a huge story, and our success or failure will reflect on my career enormously. I guess the stress kind of got to me."

Dom surveyed him thoughtfully. In all of her years at Hogwarts and all of the time she spent competing tooth and nail with him for the top spot in their class, she never would've imagined there would come a day when he would apologize to her. And not only that, but that he would reveal anything other than his self-assured attitude.

He leaned back in his chair and watched her. "So, what do you say? Forgive me?"

She gave a small smile. "Sure." It did nothing to erase the hurt she had built up over their years of competition and the sting of the barbs he had thrown at her. But this could be the beginning of something new between them. Maybe even a friendship.

The bright grin was back, as if he had known all along his apology would work its magic. "Great. Now what do you say you help me craft this opening line? It's a stubborn little bugger."

For once, she felt as if her smile might match his. "I'd love to."


	5. Chapter 5

The flame beneath the little red kettle roared to life and Dominique sank into a rickety chair inside her tiny kitchen. It wasn't much, but it was home. She pulled out a faded copy of Lysander's breaking story and scanned its words once more. It felt as though she'd read it thousands of times.

Dom realized a bit reluctantly that she was beginning to have a bit more understanding for his cocky attitude. After Cuffe had blown up at both of them, it had become evident that they were under a lot of pressure. Dom had always dreamed of an investigative job, but she hadn't paused to think about the immense stress that came with it.

Lysander had spent the last two years working under exacting deadlines and catering to a volatile boss who expected the impossible. Though she felt she would thrive under the pressure, being so close to a huge investigative story gave her more sympathy for Lysander's air of confidence and his desire for perfection. Maybe his impatience and rude remarks were just part of being a brilliant reporter.

A loud knock sounded from her front door and Dom furrowed her brow. Few people ever came by her little flat. When she pulled it open, the breath left her lungs in a tiny whoosh. "Ted."

"Dom!" he exclaimed, launching over the threshold and throwing his arms around her waist. "My little reporting star!" Teddy picked her up with minimal effort and spun her in a circle, constrained by the small front room.

Blushing a fierce shade of red, Dom pulled out of his embrace and stepped back. "What're you doing here?"

"I came to congratulate you! Your first story was fantastic."

Dom shook her head and dropped her eyes. "My name wasn't even on the story. How did you know it was mine?"

Teddy brushed past her and dropped into the armchair by her fireplace. "Dom, everyone in our entire extended family knows by now. They've all been calling each other all week talking about it. Gran won't leave me alone, keeps calling to say I'm best friends with a celebrity."

She wanted to be excited, but she knew she didn't deserve the praise. "Lysander did most of the work. Besides, we have a long road ahead of us on this story."

"Working with Scamander, huh? Wasn't he the one you fought with all the time at school?" He began leafing through a book she had left in a stack on the coffee table.

"Um, yeah. Sort of."

Teddy chuckled. "I remember that time you hexed him right after the opening feast and he had bat wings growing out of his ears for a week."

Her face burned at the memory. "He was asking for it."

"I'm sure he was. You never were one to pick fights. But you were always the one to finish them."

_What is he doing just waltzing into my flat to chat about old times?_ she squawked internally. "Well, he's less of a prick now."

He narrowed his eyes. "Glad to hear it. But blokes like that don't change."

_Does the same go for you?_ she longed to ask. The whine of the tea kettle pierced into the restless silence.

Dom darted into the kitchen and switched off the stove. "Tea?" she called into the living room.

"No, thanks. I didn't mean to stay long."

She poured the water into her waiting mug, but left it on the counter and went back to sit on the chair opposite Teddy. "Why'd you come?"

"I told you, wanted to congratulate you on your big break." His hair flickered to bright pink and back to its normal brown. That had always made her laugh when they were young, especially when laughing was the last thing she wanted to do.

She didn't laugh now. "How's Vicky?" she asked, the words tasting bitter.

Teddy shrugged. "Likes her work at Flourish and Blotts alright. She's a little bored, but you know your sister. She's always bored."

"And you two are…" Dom let her voice trail off. She really didn't want to know how serious Teddy's relationship with her sister was, but at the same time she was dying to know.

"We're whatever," he replied with another shrug. "Vic and I are complicated." A bright smile lit up his handsome face.

"What does that even mean?" Dominique snapped. She found that, having asked the question, she didn't want to hear the answer.

"It means I love your sister but she drives me mad."

Her stomach churned at his words. "She hasn't been home in ages. Mum misses her." Dom's tone was harsh. She hated being harsh to him but she couldn't help it.

The grin fell from Teddy's face. "Dom, you know better than anyone that Vic doesn't want to be home. She never got along with your parents."

_She never got along with me either, _Dominique added in her head.

As if reading her thoughts, he continued, "You two have had your fair share of issues, which I'm sure I don't have to remind you of."

_"Dominique, darling, come out of the tree house!" her mother's soft French accent wheedled._

_Dom sniffled, wiping her nose on her jumper. "Don't want to."_

_Fleur craned her neck and tried to get a look at her daughter. "It's your birthday, don't you want to see all of your cousins?"_

_She took deep breath to try and stop the tears from falling, looking down at the small picture frame she held in her hands. Teddy's bright grin and her own freckled face stared up at her, their smiles betraying her wounded heart. "I'm not coming inside."_

_"Did something happen? I can't find Victoire anywhere but why don't you bring her in and have some cake?" Fleur asked, smoothing down the front of her dress._

_Dominique knew exactly where her sister was, and she guessed Victoire wasn't the least bit interested in cake. She was much more interested in snogging her new boyfriend down by the beach, and she was sure Teddy cared much more about Victoire's new dress than he did about Dom's 14th birthday._

_Fleur poked her head into the tree house and settled down on the edge beside Dominique. "Why are you crying, dear?" She glanced down at the picture that her daughter held carefully in her hands. "What a lovely picture. Was that Teddy's present?"_

_Dominique nodded. "I'll come in for cake in a minute, Mum. But I won't get Vicky. She doesn't want any birthday cake and she doesn't want to be around me."_

_"What would make you say that? She's your sister!"_

_"She's angry at Teddy for giving this picture frame to me," Dom whispered. "And he does whatever she wants."_

_Fleur looked down at her middle child with sympathy in her eyes. "Dominique, no matter what happens between Teddy and your sister, they both will always love you. And you have a special place in Teddy's heart." She tugged her daughter's red ponytail. "Now come inside and have some cake."_

_Dom watched her mother return to the house. She wasn't going to let her sister ruin her birthday like she always managed to ruin everything. Tossing the picture aside, she jumped down from the tree house and ran inside._

"It's not like I'm dying to have her around," Dom told Teddy, aching at the memory of her 14th birthday. "I just know it would mean a lot to my parents. She and I can put aside our differences for the sake of the family."

He arched an eyebrow. "Right."

Dom's phone rang. She dashed into the kitchen and the screen read, 'Lysander Scamander.' She bit her lip. "Sorry, Ted, gotta take this. It's for work."

Teddy poked his head into the kitchen. "Okay, kid. I gotta run anyway. We'll catch up soon." Tugging on her ponytail, he left the flat.

"Hello?"

"Dominique. It's Lysander." His tone was clipped, to the point.

She almost chuckled. "Yes, I know. Caller ID?"

"Oh. Of course. Look, I've got a new lead. I know you don't usually work on Sundays, but would you come down to the office? I need you to go up to Pennysworth's for an hour or two."

Dom stirred two cubes of sugar into her cool tea. "Sure. Give me ten minutes." She hung up. This was what she had always wanted. Victoire could have Teddy and all of the heartache that came with him. She had her job.

"Working on Sunday, huh?" Pennysworth's blond secretary asked Dominique as she approached the lobby.

"Just for a couple of hours." Dom smoothed down her pink skirt and admired the way it fell just above her knees. Nice clothes had never been her thing, but it seemed investigative reporters needed to put in a little effort. Although Lysander's perfectly pressed button-downs and ties seemed a little bit like overkill. She began passing the desk, but the blond witch called her back.

"Hey, Barbara, hang on a sec."

_I hate the name Barbara, _Dom grumbled to herself.

"You know the guy who picks you up from work here sometimes? Dexter, right?" the secretary inquired.

"Yeah, good old Dex," Dom replied with a forced laugh.

The witch inspected an infinitely polished red fingernail. "Do you know if he's seeing anyone?"

Dom almost choked on her own spit. "Lysan-" she half squawked in outrage, before calming herself immediately. "No, no there's no way."

Her eyelids were covered in some unidentified, altogether too-bright makeup and mascara coated her lashes thickly. She blinked slowly at Dom. "Are you sure? He's a bloody handsome fellow."

Dom paused, eyed the witch carefully for a moment, and realized she didn't even know her name. She narrowed her eyes. "Actually, I remember he brought a girl to work a few times. She's a terribly possessive witch as a matter of fact."

The secretary pursed her lips. "Well, isn't that too bad."

"Yeah, breaks a poor girl's heart, huh? Well, anyway, gotta dash." Dom scampered up the hallway, proud of her handiwork. Hurrying into Pennysworth's office and to her tiny desk in the corner, she settled her bag down and gave her boss a wave. "Afternoon," she called.

He nodded at her. "Hello, Barbara. Be a dear and sort those boxes over there for me." Pennysworth gestured grandly to a brand new stack of boxes by the window.

_Those definitely weren't there on Friday,_ she muttered internally.

Suddenly, the phone rang. "Ministry of Magic, this is Edward Pennysworth speaking." His light eyebrows furrowed immediately. "Yes, yes, hello." His eyes darted to the door and back, then over to Dom. "Barbara, give me a moment please."

Immediately, Dom's mind began to race. She had to hear this phone call. "Of course." She left the room slowly, noticing that he didn't say another word until the door had clicked closed behind her. She pressed her ear to the crack. _What I wouldn't give for some of Uncle George's extendable ears right now!_ she thought.

"Yes, I'm alone," she heard Pennysworth say in a garbled tone.

Dom glanced to her left and right. Being caught with her ear against Pennysworth's door probably wasn't the best idea. She cast a hurried look around her and caught sight of an air vent in the hallway ceiling. If she could reach one, maybe she could try and listen from somewhere else.

Dashing down the hallway as quietly as she could, Dom shoved into the women's restroom and glanced about fast. An air vent was positioned just above the furthest toilet. Gingerly, she stepped up onto the rim and cursed her high heels. Lysander's sharp dressing habits had rubbed off on her way too much.

She pried the edge of the vent loose and tried to tilt her ear up. Muffled sounds were drifting through, and she thought she could pick out Pennysworth's wheezing voice. Dom eyed the air vent. Maybe, just maybe…

Grabbing a hold of the edge of the vent, she hopped up onto the back of the toilet and propelled herself into the vent. Her hips stuck momentarily, but she wiggled left and right and tugged herself through. For the first time in her life, Dom was grateful that she hadn't been born with the same curvy build as Victoire.

Dom wriggled forward, trying to ignore the dust bunnies and spiders that infested the tiny air duct. She could hear clearly now.

"I told you, I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I'm up to my ears in work you've left behind!" Pennysworth exclaimed.

_He must be talking to Bomsnox._

"Don't threaten me," he hissed suddenly. "I don't know where you've been or what you think you're doing, but if I stop sorting through all of your work, many more people might realize you're gone. The _Prophet_ is already on to you."

He fell silent for a long moment and Dom wondered if he'd hung up.

Then his voice drifted into the air duct again. "You wouldn't dare hire an assassin. Get back here by the end of the month, or else I tell everyone where you really are."

Dom's jaw dropped. What in Merlin's name had she gotten herself into? And on top of that, there was a good chance she was stuck in this air duct.

"Barbara? Barbara!" came a sharp call from the hallway.

Dom squirmed ferociously, trying in vain to push herself out of the vent. Seconds later, she dropped with a thud from the ceiling, right foot landing directly in the toilet. "Damn." Shaking her leg as hard to dislodge as much of the water as she could, Dominique dashed into the hallway and collided with a solid figure.

"Merlin's beard, Barbara!" Lysander snapped, eyes blazing.

She stared up at him from her seat on the hallway floor, amazed that he had somehow managed to stay undercover and remembered to call her Barbara.

He stuck out a hand to her, smiling crookedly.

Grimacing, she let him help her up and attempted to brush off her clothes.

Lysander's gaze swept up and down the length of her. "Why the bloody hell are you so dusty?"

"Long story," she muttered. "Let's get out of here and I'll tell you the whole thing."

Pennysworth's head poked out of his office, the door open just a crack. "Barbara, there you are. Take the afternoon off. You can start with those boxes first thing Monday." Without waiting for a response, he slammed the door shut.

Dom's eyes flicked up to meet Lysander's. "We have to go. Now," she whispered.

He gave one quick nod and stalked down the hallway, ignoring the front desk witch's smarmy wave, which gave Dom a tiny bit of pleasure. Once they had made it to the huge, loud front hallway of the Ministry, he slowed his pace. "So would you care to explain why one of your legs is soaking wet and why you have dust bunnies trailing halfway down your skirt?" He raised an eyebrow.

She chose to ignore his condescending tone. "Pennysworth got this phone call while I was working and basically freaked out and told me to leave. I knew it was something I had to hear but it was pretty muffled through the door so I just um…" Her voice trailed off.

Lysander narrowed his eyes. "So you what?"

"Climbed into the air vent to hear better," she muttered.

He let out a loud burst of a laugh, one of the most genuine things she'd ever heard from him. "Good for you! And the wet leg?"

She looked down. "Fell in the toilet," she said quickly, under her breath.

Dom could tell from the gleam in his eyes that he had heard her, but instead he replied, "You did what?"

"Fell in the toilet!" Dom exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

Lysander chuckled again and shook his head in disbelief. "Willing to get a nice outfit dirty and a brand new shoe drenched…you must be a reporter."

"How'd you know my shoes were new?" she asked, following him to the fireplaces.

He raised an eyebrow as if confused by the question. "You've never worn them before and they're as shiny as a snitch." Lysander stepped into the fireplace and shot her a wink. "Got them just to impress me, huh?"

The green fire blazed up and consumed him, leaving Dominique staring after him, unsure of just when they'd become friends.

Author's Note: Hope you're all enjoying where the story's going! I really appreciate the reviews I've gotten so far and I'd love more feedback...it's so helpful to hear from readers :)


	6. Chapter 6

Dominique's eyes glazed over as she stared at the computer screen in front of her. Lysander had somehow secured a copy of Bomsnox's financial statement for the last two years and was having her scroll through it. No matter what angle she considered the sheet from, it wasn't revealing any secrets.

She watched as all around her, even the night shift staff at the _Prophet_ office packed up and headed home. At one time, it had been a novelty to watch the producing crew put together the final stages of the next day's issue. Now it was her reward for staying at the office way too late once again.

The clock read out a bleary 2:30am and she withheld a groan. This was the investigative journalism life. If that was what she wanted as her career, long nights were just part of the territory.

A moment later, Lysander strode down the aisle towards her tiny desk with his jacket on his arm, looking as wide awake as ever and ready for anything. "How's it going over here?"

She shrugged up at him. "Unless you count way too many trips to the Leaky Cauldron as a crime, he's clean as my Grandma Weasley."

Lysander gave her a puzzled stare. "So is that clean, or…"

Dom rolled her eyes. "I thought you'd get the analogy. Although odds are my Gran has some skeletons in her closet that I'd rather not know about." Her voice trailed off. "Anyway. Point is, there's not much in these records."

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his navy dress pants. "Scoot over." Rounding the corner and pushing aside some papers, he settled onto the edge of her desk and peered at the screen over her shoulder.

She could smell the spicy scent of his usual cologne; she'd never gotten close enough before to smell it so strongly. But somehow it wasn't overpowering. It seemed to fit him perfectly.

Lysander's hazel eyes scanned the page quickly. "He goes to quite a few Quidditch games," he muttered. "Didn't you say he was seen at a game just before we broke our first story?"

"That was the rumor," Dom offered. "But we never got proof of that."

He pursed his lips, shoulder bumping against hers as he leaned back from the computer. "I think it's time we pay a visit to the Leaky Cauldron."

_Surely he can't mean right now…_

Lysander pushed off the edge of the desk and stood straight, tugging down the sleeves of his jacket. "Ready?"

As much as she wanted to complain, she wouldn't let herself. She and Lysander had been working together more and more like a team, hardly even bickering, and she wasn't about to ruin that just because she wanted to go to bed. "Let's go."

Moments later, they had Apparated to the street in London where the Diagon Alley entrance was located. Tapping the bricks smartly, Lysander walked ahead of her through the witches and wizards who milled along the street. Diagon Alley wasn't exactly known for its night life, but a different type of crowd populated its shops once it got late.

The two journalists walked quietly down the street, Dominique feeling as if she might fall asleep on her feet at any moment. Lysander was showing no signs of weariness, but looked as awake as he did when he showed up to the office every day at six in the morning.

As they passed Flourish and Blotts, Dom's heart thudded to a stop. In the shadows of the front step, a couple was pressed up against the window. A turquoise head of hair bent over a slim, blonde figure, the two kissing passionately.

Dom stopped walking without noticing she had stopped, feet planted firmly to the sidewalk as her eyes stayed glued to the scene as if she'd been Petrified.

"Dominique?" Lysander's voice drifted back to her.

The turquoise head snapped up and the fluorescent light from the nearby streetlamp illumined Teddy's dark eyes. "Dom! What're you doing here?"

Victoire's mouth dropped open the slightest bit. She didn't say a word.

Lysander glanced from Dom to Teddy and back but didn't speak either.

Dom knew her face must be registering an unpleasant mix of shock and disgust, but she couldn't even force the tiniest smile. It had been so long since she'd seen the two of them together like that. If she had to guess, she would've thought she could handle it, but it turned out she would've been wrong.

"Dom?" Teddy called again, leaving Victoire in the shadows and walking towards her.

"She's on an assignment with me," Lysander finally spoke up, returning to her side. "Lupin, right?" He held out a hand to Teddy.

_Leave it to Lysander to be polite in this ridiculous situation_, Dom thought darkly, still slightly grateful for her partner's poise.

Teddy ignored the outstretched hand. "You okay, Dom?"

She forced herself to nod. "I'm fine. We have to go. We're working on a story." Feeling Lysander's hand press into the small of her back, she let him guide her away from the two of them, her stomach churning.

The dim, quiet glow of the Leaky Cauldron welcomed them into its embrace, hushed chatter from all sides enveloping them. Lysander ushered her to a booth in the corner and gently pushed her onto the seat. "Wait there," he instructed.

A moment later, he reappeared and placed a substantial glass of Firewhiskey on the table in front of her. He sank onto the seat across from her and crossed his arms. "Drink up."

Dom's gaze flickered down at it and back up to meet his eyes. "You want me to drink that?"

He gave a quick nod. "Yep."

"We're on the job!" she exclaimed. Her bright blue eyes were wide. What had happened to proper, straight-laced Lysander?

He checked his leather watch. "I'm pretty sure you're off the clock at 10pm. It's almost three o'clock in the morning. Go on." He gestured to the glass.

For a moment, Dominique considered whether or not this could be some kind of trick. Maybe he wanted to force her to do something terrible so he'd have a reason to get her pulled off the story. But that was crazy…if he had wanted to get rid of her, Cuffe would've made that easy enough. Lysander was the one who had stuck up for her, who clearly wanted her working with him enough to risk his own neck. She took a tentative sip.

Lysander let out a huge guffaw. "That's not how you drink Firewhiskey!" He snatched the glass from her hand and took a massive swig. "Do it like that," he ordered, voice not in the least affected by swallowing the burning liquid.

Dom made a face, but obeyed, pulling down a large drag of the drink. It scalded her throat on the way down but somehow it felt better than the emptiness inside of her. "Who is it we need to talk to here?"

He shrugged. "The barkeep. I'll ask him if he's seen Bomsnox around lately. The guy had a ton of bills racked up for this place."

"Let me help you," she offered, shuffling to the side a little in her seat.

Lysander shook his head. "Nah, I've got it covered. Stay there. I'll go ask a few questions, and when I get back, that glass had better be empty."

As she watched his retreating back, Dom took another small sip of the cup. She cursed herself for being so easily affected by Teddy and Victoire. They had been dating on and off since her 4th year, why did it still suck the air out of her lungs every time she saw them kissing? She simply had to get over this. It was past the point of ridiculous and had become pathetic. She took another gulp.

A few minutes later, Lysander strode back to the table and plunked two more glasses of Firewhiskey down. "You finished it!" he exclaimed.

Dom's eyes traveled slowly down the glass she still held in her hand. He was right; it was empty. She hadn't even noticed when she finished it. "I really don't need any more," Dom insisted, eyeing the glass in front of her warily.

"I think you do." Lysander nudged it across the table closer to her. He didn't say anything about his trip to the bar, but Dom was sure he had gotten whatever information he went to find. He always did.

Chewing her lip, she reached for the second glass and took another sip. She half expected him to ask why she was acting like such a loon, but an easy silence remained over them as she stared into the depths of the cup.

After a long while, Lysander loosened the knot of his tie and met her gaze. "Was that your sister?"

Dominique nodded slowly, finger tracing the rim of her glass.

Lysander considered her thoughtfully. "You two don't get along." It was a statement, not a question. "I remember that much from Hogwarts."

It was the first time he'd openly acknowledged that they had gone to school together. Dom wondered bitterly if he remembered the way he had always treated her. She took another swig.

"And that's probably because of Lupin," he added in a quiet voice, hazel eyes still trying to meet her gaze.

She let him look at her, not sure how he had figured that out so quickly. They weren't even friends, just partners, and he could somehow read her like a book. "That easy to tell?" she asked in a whisper.

Lysander shrugged. "I'm good with people." He leaned across the table, cupping his glass in his big hands. "Look, I'm not trying to make you talk about anything. Just saying I understand."

"I'm not sure you do." She surprised herself with her honesty. _I need to stop drinking right now_, Dom told herself forcefully.

He narrowed his eyes the way he always did when he was challenged. "No?" He looked away from her then, gaze drifting over the odd people who straggled throughout the bar. "My mum is the editor of _The Quibbler_. She'd never hate me, but my brother sure enough does. Neither of them like that I work for the _Prophet_, let alone that I'm doing so well. They think if I'm going to be a success, I've got to be their success."

Dom swallowed, angry at herself for never stopping to consider that he likely had his own problems. "I-"

Lysander held up a hand, stopping her. "It's fine. I get along with them, there's no murder being plotted." He grinned at that. "And it sure as hell beats being in love with my sister's boyfriend."

Her gut twisted. How had he known? She gulped down the last of her glass, the hot trail burning away all feeling of sadness.

He slid his half-empty glass across the table at her. "Finish mine."

Dom's eyes went wide. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk."

Lysander flashed a cocky half smile. "Who says I'm not?"

She stared down at the glass and told herself firmly that she wasn't going to touch it. Proper girls didn't drink with men – let alone work colleagues – at three in the morning in sketchy bars.

"You need it." His tone was sincere.

Dom pushed her bangs from her eyes and considered his face thoughtfully. He had the most piercing eyes she'd ever seen. It was as if their hazel gaze could see anything. A straight nose, sharp cheekbones. Thin lips. And a bright, cocky smile that seemed to always be on his face. He was handsome. She took a long swallow of his Firewhiskey. "I'm not in love with him you know," Dom said suddenly, staring down into the amber liquid.

"No?"

She shook her head. "He used to be my best friend. But he proved a long time ago that Vicky's charms are more his style…" Her voice trailed off. "I've never been the pretty one."

_What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Dominique?_ she shrieked at herself internally. _Opening up to Lysander? Lysander Scamander, of all people?_ But she found she didn't even care. Must be the Firewhiskey.

Dominique's eyes flicked up briefly and found him looking right back at her, face pensive.

"I think you're pretty."

She could feel her mouth open into a small "o" at his words. She had to have imagined it.

But he had a kind smile on his face, nothing like his usual, self-confident grin. His gaze traced her face, meeting her eyes, settling on her lips. "Let me get you home."

"Home?" she exclaimed, mind racing. "No, no, no. I don't think so. I, uh…we work together!"

Lysander let out another of his huge, deep laughs, the ones he seemed to let out only when he didn't mean to. "Dominique, I meant _your_ home."

A heated blush rushed into her cheeks. "Oh. Right," she said meekly, letting him pull her to her feet.

He tugged her through the Leaky Cauldron and onto the street, out of Diagon Alley. "What's your address?"

Through the fog in her mind, she told him the address. He gripped her hand and Apparated. They stood in front of her flat, the cheery red door greeting them.

"You didn't have to bring me back," she whispered, looking up at him in the glow of the street light.

He grinned. "I got you drunk, so I figured getting you home safely was my responsibility."

"I'm not drunk!" she exclaimed hurriedly, trying to hit his arm in outrage.

He caught her wrist with ease. "Of course not. You okay to get to bed yourself?"

Dom's face colored once more. "I think I can manage that."

"You're sure? I'd be happy to help."

He was just flirting with her, he didn't mean it. "I'll be fine. Thanks for getting me back."

Lysander shrugged, pushing his hands into his pockets once more. "You got it." He turned away.

"And I can't believe I'm saying this, but thanks for getting me drunk." The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "You were right. I needed it."

He smiled, a small, genuine smile. "Of course."

Dominique let herself into her flat and sank against the door the moment it had closed. She was sure that when she woke up, it would all have been a dream.


	7. Chapter 7

The shrill clanging of the alarm clock pierced Dominique's ears a mere four hours later. Her throbbing skull was proof enough that the previous night had been all too real. Eyeing the clock as if it was her arch nemesis, she groaned loudly and rolled over. The job had kept her out unmercifully late and now it was forcing her out of bed unmercifully early.

"Journalism is so not worth it," she grumbled, dragging herself out of bed and into the shower.

Her morning routine usually took about fifteen minutes, but this morning it seemed to inch by and every task took three times its normal length. Dom finally made it to her desk, only a half hour late, and found a cup of coffee waiting for her. A tiny scrap of paper beside it read, 'Drink up'. It was Lysander's tight, all together too neat scrawl.

Repressing a smile, she gulped down half the coffee in one swig, hoping it would ease the ache in her head. Tea was the British thing, but it did absolutely nothing for hangovers. Lysander knew what he was doing.

Lysander. Just thinking about him for a second turned Dom's stomach into a tangle of knots. Her aching head made it quite clear that the night before had indeed happened, and unfortunately she hadn't been drunk enough to forget it. She had told her colleague way too much about her personal life…no, that wasn't entirely true. He had guessed most of it on his own.

Slitting open the first letter on the rapidly growing stack beside her, she pursed her lips. Had he really said she was pretty? He got her home safely, and she could've sworn he was flirting with her. What did any of that mean? For the millionth time, she cursed herself for being born less like Victoire and more like, well, herself.

Her sister would've known exactly what all of the signs last night meant, whereas she was hopeless. Dom's experience with boys was pretty much confined to pining after Teddy and a drawn out, mostly unpleasant couple of years dating the Slytherin Quidditch captain just to cause a stir. She didn't exactly have the best luck in the guy department.

These hopeless thoughts were cut short a moment later when Bertha approached the desk. "That stack gets bigger every day," the witch grumbled.

"I haven't had much time to get to these," Dominique admitted, not really feeling all that guilty about it.

Bertha merely grunted. "You might be working with the big shots now, but if we stop running your column, we'll have half the wizarding world pounding at our door."

Dom paused. Would it really have that much of an effect if she ceased writing her daily advice? "Maybe half the teenage population of witches," she allowed.

"Even so," rejoined Bertha with a shrug. "I suggest you make time to craft a few solid columns this week. If your big story fails, you'll need this to fall back on."

_If my big story fails, I'll be kicked out of here so fast I won't have time to fall back on anything_, Dom thought darkly as Bertha retreated to her own cubicle.

As 11 o'clock rolled around, Dominique hurried to Lysander's office for their daily meeting. Over the past few weeks of working with him, her original apprehension had begun to fade away, replaced by a sense of ease around him. The cutting, sharp Lysander of their Hogwarts days was more often than not replaced by a good-humored, confident, capable young man. The more they worked together, the more he trusted her, and the more they had fallen into a camaraderie she hadn't expected.

Now it felt like all of that was gone. It was clear last night that the two of them were friends, and Dom was both shocked and happy to realize that much was true. But last night had also been something different, something she couldn't put her finger on. And that something different was bringing back a familiar, nervous feeling at the thought of setting foot in his small office.

"Well don't stand there lurking around all day," came a chuckle from behind her as she eyed the chestnut door.

Dom turned to find Lysander watching her, cup of tea in his hand. "I, uh…" _So articulate_, she berated herself.

Ignoring her stammering, he prodded the door open and ushered her in ahead of himself. "Just grabbing a cup of tea. That's what we civilized Brits drink in the morning." He flashed her a wink.

"Oh, er, yeah. Thanks for the coffee," she replied, setting down her notes and sinking into her usual chair.

"My pleasure. Figured you'd need that. Completely barbaric though." He set down his cup and began shuffling through papers.

She couldn't resist a smile at that. "You're becoming as bad as Cuffe with this mess." She gestured to the stacks of papers littering his desk.

Lysander gave her a thoughtful look. "Well, that's why I have you, isn't it?"

She didn't reply, mind reverberating with his words. '_Why I have you'…now what could he mean by that? No, nothing. He means nothing by it. He's making small talk. Settle down._

He gave her a quizzical look, confused by the twisted look she likely had on her face. "Truth is, Dominique, we need to get down to business here."

Dom once again had an inexplicable urge to ask him to stop calling her by her full name. But again, she suppressed it. He could call he whatever he liked. "Business?" she inquired, voice sounding more like a squeak than she would have hoped.

"We've got five days to turn up something worthy of a follow-up story," Lysander clarified, suddenly all business, tea forgotten. "The Leaky Cauldron was fairly useless, said Bomsnox came in almost every night for a few years and then stopped showing up a month ago."

Dom's head lifted a bit, jumbled thoughts eradicated by a possible new lead. "That shows something's definitely up!"

"Yes and no," he hedged. "So he stopped going for a pint every night. Doesn't make him a criminal."

She sank back against the chair, biting her lip thoughtfully. "Everything we've found so far is pointing to something, I just know it."

Lysander let out a frustrated growl, shoving his chair back from the desk and pushing himself to his feet. "That's completely useless if we don't know what it's pointing at!" The volume of his voice was rising at an alarming clip. "If I lose my job, my family-" He cut himself off sharply, rubbing at the back of his neck.

She thought fast, trying to connect the dots, do something to get him back on track. "Quidditch tickets…what about all the Quidditch tickets he bought, and how he was at a game after he disappeared?"

He gazed out the window through a slit in the blinds. "So what."

She got to her feet too, pacing back and forth a little the way he always did. "It can't be a coincidence that he spends so much money on Quidditch and then that's the one place he's seen when he's supposedly ill."

Lysander stepped away from the window and began methodically rolling up the sleeves of his starched shirt. When he didn't respond for a moment, just kept folding, Dominique knew he was lost in thought. "Maybe you have something. But we need solid proof."

Dom played idly with the buttons at the bottom of her blouse, waiting for his next stroke of inspiration. That brilliant idea always came.

A moment later, hazel eyes flicked up to meet her gaze. "I've got it."

_There it is, right on cue_. "Yeah?" she asked, eager to see what he'd come up with.

"You and I are breaking and entering."

A huge, imposing stone mansion glared angrily out at them as they Apparated onto the wide street in the countryside. A pitch black night laid on top of them, pierced only by the flickering glow of a few streetlamps.

Dominique hung back, taking her surroundings in cautiously.

"This is no time for second thoughts," Lysander called quietly from up ahead.

But her feet remained planted. _Maybe investigative journalism isn't my calling after all_, she thought morbidly, feeling chills up her spine at the creepy house before them. She expected Lysander to go on without her, but instead he doubled back and faced her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What's going on?" he inquired.

_He never walks backward. I always have to catch up with him._ "Not what I expected you to say," she rejoined, looking away.

"And what did you expect? Me to yell at you, tell you to hurry up? Wouldn't be the first time, right?"

Dom still wasn't looking at him.

"I'm asking you to break into the home of a top Ministry of Magic official. I realize that's not an easy request. We could get in serious trouble for what we're about to do." There was no concealed laughter in his tone.

"You're not doing a very good job convincing me," she told him, finally meeting his eye.

He didn't crack a smile, but his face didn't look angry either. "I'm not trying to convince you. If you want to succeed at this kind of reporting, you've got to want it really badly. And Dominique, I know you do." Lysander turned away and continued walking towards the massive house.

He was right. He somehow always seemed to be right when it came to her. It was as if all of those years of fighting with her, always teasing and bullying at Hogwarts had been another person. This new Lysander knew her like the back of his hand. And she found that wasn't as scary as she might've thought it would be. "I'm coming," she whispered, hurrying to catch up with him.

Lysander reached the wrought iron gate before her, pausing to inspect its careful detail. The gate stood way over their heads, and extended on either side into huge stone pillars, both of which stretched out into cement walls.

"Bomsnox isn't messing around, is he?" Lysander muttered under his breath. "We'll have to climb."

"Why can't we just Apparate in there?" she inquired.

"And risk letting everyone inside know we're here? I don't think so."

She sighed resignedly. It was a good thing she'd dressed for exploration. She was clad in jeans, a black sweatshirt and a pair of trainers, all of which were much more conducive to breaking and entering than her usual work ensemble.

Lysander traced along the cement wall until he found a section that was slightly more rundown, its surface cracked and crumbling. "Here." He tested it briefly, feeling for a foothold, and gestured to her. "You go up first, I'll catch you if you fall."

For an instant, Dom could've sworn there was a teasing glimmer in his eyes, a half smile on his face. But then it was gone. "You'd better," she grumbled, trying to get her foot into the cracks in the wall. "I climbed into an air vent already for this story, a wall is just the next big thing."

She heard his throaty chuckle resonate from below her. Dom gripped at the top of the wall and, exerting what little arm strength she had, pulled herself over. She dropped to her feet on the other side and was quickly joined by Lysander. "That was fast," she remarked.

He shrugged. "Practice." Not waiting for her eye roll, he strode across the grass, staying behind trees as much as he could. When they had gotten about ten feet from the house, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Not through the front door?" Dom inquired.

Lysander shook his head. "Don't think so. We'll go around and look for the service entrance."

They circled back around the house and found a small side door nestled in one corner. "Alohomora," Lysander whispered, pointing his wand at the handle. He tried the knob. Nothing. He muttered the spell again and again, but to no avail.

"Damn this guy's good," Dom cursed.

"And he's got to be hiding something. Only a paranoid criminal would make the service door that foolproof." He scanned the perimeter.

"This is the only other door," Dom noted, as if the searching was in vain.

Lysander pushed his hand through his coffee-colored locks which were as messy as Dominique had ever seen them. "I know that. We'll try a window."

She followed along behind him as he tried to unlock all of the windows on the ground floor, creeping slowly around the full area of the house. None of them budged. As they returned to their original spot by the service entrance, Lysander began scanning the second floor.

Seconds later, he located a tiny window in the right hand corner of the back wall. "Come on." Striding towards it, he stowed his wand in a pocket and knelt down, one knee pressing into the firm earth.

"What're you doing?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Giving you a boost. You've got to try that upstairs window." His gaze was calm, unperturbed as she stared at him like he was crazy.

Dom shook her head. "No way. I'm going to die!"

Lysander stared right back. "No, you won't. Let's go." He waited, but she didn't budge. "Your other option is to give me a boost." A wicked grin crossed his face.

"Fine." Slowly, feeling like she was moving through molasses, she settled her foot into his waiting hands. "Don't drop me," she hissed.

"I wouldn't dare." Lysander gripped her calf in his strong hands, taking hold of her other foot and launching her up towards the window. It took all of her self control not to squeal as she fell towards the building and latched onto the tiny ledge by the window.

Her ankles were still grasped tightly in Lysander's hands, but she teetered precariously, reaching slowly for her wand as she tried not to look down. "Alohomora," she breathed. _Click._ "Thank Merlin," Dom gasped.

Author's Note: Really sorry for the cliffhanger! This chapter was getting kind of unwieldy and long so I split it up into two parts. Much more excitement to come, I promise. Leave a review if you can, I appreciate the feedback SO much :) And thanks to everyone who has left reviews so far!


	8. Chapter 8

Lysander gave her feet a firm push, boosting her up further and letting her get her arms over the window sill. Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself half into the house, praying no one was around to witness her ungraceful entrance. Once she was inside, she stuck her head back out the window. "I'll open the service door," she called back.

He stared up at her, eyes unreadable in the darkness outside.

Dom pulled her head back in and glanced around, struck by the opulence of the mansion. It was to be expected, for the head of the Wizengamot, but the ornate decorations seemed too large even for the huge house. She walked quietly down the hall, not hearing any other noises and hoping they'd be alone. Hurrying down the stairs, she unlatched the back door and ushered Lysander inside.

"Took you long enough." He shut the door quietly behind him. "Find anything good yet?"

Dom furrowed her brow. "Lysander. I've been inside for about thirty seconds."

He shrugged and began a methodical trek down the long hallway in front of them. "We need to find an office. That's our best bet."

Dominique traipsed behind him, scanning the area around them as they went, searching for anything that might be helpful.

The two of them made it to the front half of the house, passing through a large, open living room. Lysander stopped at the wide fireplace, staring down at the pile of logs that were slightly charred. A tiny jar of Floo powder sat on the mantle. "He's been here recently." He swiveled back to her.

She affirmed his statement with a nod, taking in the tall portraits on every wall. Each one featured a variety of Quidditch players, clad in light blue robes. "Who are all these players?"

Lysander did a 180 turn, scanning them all quickly. "It's the French Quidditch team."

Dom's eyes narrowed. "Why would he have portraits of the French Quidditch team on his living room walls?"

"Everything keeps coming back to Quidditch," he murmured.

Over the fireplace, one portrait stood much larger than the others. A tall, slightly heavyset wizard stood beside a chair, in which a regal looking witch was seated. His hand rested on her left shoulder, and her cloak was marked all over with fleur-de-lis. A French flag hung prominently to the side of the couple.

"That's Bomsnox," Dom breathed. "Must be his wife. And it looks like she's from France? Maybe that explains the obsession with the French team."

Lysander's eyes stuck on the portrait for a mere second. "We need to find his office."

"Before someone finds us," Dom rejoined, settling into the path behind him once again.

They re-entered the main hallway and kept going towards the front of the house, further away from the back service area of Bomsnox's mansion. Moments later, a pair of dark, cherry paneled doors faced them. Without a word, Lysander felt for the handle. It stuck.

"Locked?" Dom asked. "Try Alohomora."

He chuckled softly. "If he double locks his windows, I doubt he'd leave his-"

"_Alohomora_," Dom cut him off. _Click. _

"Well. Look at that." Lysander gave the door a slight push, smiling down at her.

They entered into an office the same size as the vast living room, as neat and clean as Lysander's was messy. There were no teetering stacks of boxes, no papers cluttering the desk, books were arranged neatly in bookcases that lined the walls.

Lysander ran a finger across the edge of the long, chestnut desk. "Not a trace of dust."

"Must have great maids," Dom suggested. "What exactly are we looking for?"

"Anything." He stalked to the window and glared out of it, taking in the huge expanse of the rolling front lawn with its menacing trees.

Dominique turned the corner of the desk, bent down to try the drawers. "For someone who locks windows, he keeps his office relatively accessible." She slid open the top drawer. Stacks of Galleons glinted up at her. "Well it makes sense he'd be rich," she muttered.

Trying the next drawer, she found neatly filed papers marked 'finances.' Another drawer down, and a set of little black books faced her. She furrowed her brow and picked up the top book. Rows and columns stared back at her. 'France v. Belgium' one section read, another said 'France v. Netherlands.' It went on like that, listing matchups with numbers strewn to the side of each, marking out the scores. "I think I found a Quidditch scorekeeping book," she called to Lysander, who was still staring straight out the window.

He was behind her in a second, peering over her shoulder at the book in her hands. He took it from her, flipped a few pages, and reached for the next book in the pile. It had similar markings in it. Then a third, and the same. A small paper fluttered to the floor from the back of the book.

Dom reached out for it and snatched it up, hastily taking in the words. "Dear Mr. Bomsnox," she read aloud, "Enclosed find your winnings for this season of the International Quidditch Competition. You will find that the amount is what we agreed upon at the start of the season. I've kept the remaining amount. I look forward to discussing next seasons bets and arrangements with you in the near future. Sincerely, Pierre Lamonde." Her voice ground to a halt. "What in Merlin's name does that mean?"

Lysander's eyes registered understanding. "He's a gambler, betting on Quidditch games. And it looks like his winnings are fixed."

Dom stared down at the paper then back up at him. "You mean he's cheating?"

He gave a quick nod. "It sounds like he and this Lamonde are in it together, running some kind of gambling ring and splitting the profits."

Harsh footsteps echoed down the hallway outside the door, which Dom had thankfully remembered to close behind them. Her eyes went wide. "Someone's coming," she hissed, as if that wasn't already evident.

His face went white, staring at the doorway. Then he leapt into action. Shutting the drawer with quiet force, Lysander shoved the book into his pocket and grabbed Dominique's hand. He dragged her across the room, yanking open a tiny door sheltered in the far corner of the office, between two bookshelves.

Not bothering to look into the darkness and see the interior, Lysander pushed Dom inside and hurried in after her, pulling the little door shut tight behind them. The closet was hardly big enough for three brooms, let alone two people.

The back of Dom's head pressed into something hard, something that felt like a shelf, situated directly behind her on the back wall of the cupboard. Lysander's chest was pushed up against Dominique, her face mere centimeters from the taut skin of his neck. He didn't even seem to be breathing, he was standing so still.

They could hear the office door creak open, and loud footsteps clicked into the room. Dom's breathing settled into a slow rhythm, her heartbeat calming down only slightly. For the first time, she noticed Lysander's arm was wrapped behind her back, bracing himself against the shelf behind her.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the closet, her gaze flicked up at Lysander. He was looking back at her, biting his lip, face completely serious. She wanted to say something, anything, to ease the tension she could feel building up between them in the tiny space. But now was not the time to sort out her jumbled emotions towards him. They were about to be discovered trespassing in Caspar Bomsnox's house.

Her breathing sped up again at that thought, adrenaline coursing through her. Would they go to jail, stand on trial? They'd be fired without question. Cuffe hadn't given permission for this insane attempt to find evidence.

As if hearing her thoughts, Lysander ducked his head, lips brushing her ear. "Calm down," he whispered, voice barely audible even to her.

_It would be a lot easier to remain calm if your body wasn't all pressed up against me_, Dom yelled at him internally. But she simply gave a little nod, nose bumping his shoulder.

He gripped the shelf more firmly, edging himself closer to her, as if that was even possible. Lysander's feet shuffled the smallest bit, planted solidly on either side of her small frame. She was completely enveloped in his broad embrace. _Merlin help me…_

The footsteps sounded as if they were pacing the perimeter of the room, stopping every so often. There was no way whoever it was wouldn't check the closet. But they didn't. After what felt like an hour, but in reality was likely a few minutes, the sounds receded and the office door clicked closed.

Lysander exhaled in a whoosh, like he'd been holding his breath the entire time. But he still didn't move. "We need to wait," he whispered in explanation, looking down at her again. He twitched his nose, pulling his head back as her hair brushed against his face.

"Sorry," she murmured, twisting back and trying to stop the runaway strands from tickling him.

A few seconds later, he stepped back, quietly twisting the knob and extricating himself from their little hiding space. A rush of cold air filled the space where he had been, her body tensing up at his absence. For the briefest moment, the idea flickered into her mind that she wanted him to step back and press her into the shelf once again.

"Let's go," he called back to her. "Fast." Tugging her out of the closet, he shut the door behind her and hurried out of the office. He scanned the hallway both ways. "You've got the letter?"

She felt for it in her pocket, fingers closing around its crumpled edges. "Got it."

Lysander motioned for her to follow close behind him. "That'll have to be good enough." Looking left and right as he went, he led the way back to the service door and herded Dom out of the mansion ahead of him. A strong hand took hers in a firm grip, pulling her into the shadow of a nearby tree.

Dominique willed herself not to think about the long fingers clasped around hers. She waited patiently, trusting him to get them out of this in one piece.

"There's at least one person in there, so we have to be careful. Follow me," he told her, his voice a little louder now. Dodging from tree to tree, he made it back to the front of the lawn and crouched near the bushes by the cement wall.

"I don't think I can climb back over," Dom said, scanning the wall for cracks and finding nothing.

He didn't reply, just paced towards the solid wall and beckoned her over. Tentatively, she edged out of the shadows and stood beside him.

"I'm going to give you a boost. We're good at this now." Lysander managed a small smile.

Dom just nodded, stepping into his waiting hands once more. How had she gone from hating this man just a month ago to trusting him implicitly to vault her over walls in the middle of the night? She grabbed at the top of the wall, scrambling to find a hold. Her fingers slipped, caught on the edge, slipped again.

She tumbled backwards, arms spinning, wanting to scream but holding it in as well as she could. Dom let out a muffled yell and toppled backwards, not hitting the ground as she was sure she would, but landing solidly in Lysander's arms. Her eyes met his in an instant.

"Come on now, work with me here," he grumbled, but she could just make out a slight twinkle in his eyes.

"Sorry," she whispered. "Guess I need more practice."

A loud bang resounded through the vast expanse of the yard, and the two whirled around to catch sight of the huge front doors slamming open. "Who's there?" a high-pitched, female voice called.

Lysander's eyes met hers in the dark. "They know we're here now. We've got to just Apparate."

"But-" Dom's heart rate was back up now, the panic setting in.

He dropped her to her feet but quickly grabbed at her hand. "Don't try to go anywhere, let me pull you with me. Close your eyes."

Her neck twisted, watching as a woman hurried down the front steps. "You out there, get back here!" she yelled out at them.

Dom's head turned back to face him and she pressed her lips together. "Let's go."

Lysander took hold of her other hand, holding both firmly in his tight grasp. They both squeezed their eyes shut. And they were gone.

Author's Note: Will this discovery be enough? Lots more craziness to come, I plan to update again sometime this week if all goes well. Please leave a review, I appreciate everyone who has done so already :)


	9. Chapter 9

A gray slate door faced them as Dominique opened her eyes hesitantly. Lysander dropped her hands the second their feet hit the ground, and for a moment, she felt strangely empty.

She tried to ignore the sensation and asked, "Where are we?"

Lysander pulled something from his pocket and went to the door, fitting a key into the lock. "My flat." He pushed the door open.

Dom followed his wave and stepped into the front room ahead of him, not entirely sure why he had brought her here.

He strode into the living room and set his keys down on a small coffee table. He somehow seemed too big for the space, as if his broad shoulders didn't quite fit in the little flat. She would have expected him to have a far more ostentatious home. But the truth was that she'd never really thought about where he lived before. Lysander didn't seem the homey type.

"Tea?" he asked calmly.

Dom eyed him with a modicum of irritation. "We almost got arrested and put on trial by the Wizengamot and you're offering me tea?"

Lysander grinned. "All the more reason." He strode into the kitchen, vanishing from sight. "You don't have to drink any, but I'm putting the water on," he called back.

Repressing a sigh, Dom trailed after him into the kitchen and watched him fill a kettle with water from the sink.

"Please, have a seat." He gestured to the wooden table by the far wall, which was surrounded by dark green chairs.

She sank into one gratefully, suddenly realizing that her knees were still shaky. "Why did you bring me here?"

He flicked the burner on beneath the tea kettle and walked over to her, looking at her for a moment before settling into a chair on the opposite side of the table. "Because you weren't in a state of mind to Apparate anywhere yourself. And because we need to go over what we've found."

She ignored this last statement. "State of mind? I could've Apparated anywhere I pleased if you had let me!" she exclaimed in outrage.

Lysander lifted a skeptical brow. "Of course."

"I don't need you saving me all the time, Lysander." Dom frowned.

"I was hardly saving you," he protested, raising a hand. "What's the harm? That woman would've caught us if we had tried to vault the wall again so I gave up and just Apparated. What do you care if I brought you here?"

She chewed at her lip. "I don't," she muttered. It was ridiculous to be annoyed with him for helping her, but it seemed she'd never succeed at any of this on her own if he was always babying her. But she didn't want to say that to him.

His hazel eyes rested on her face, but he didn't say anything more.

As he looked at her pensively, Dom felt her earlier confusion rush back. The events of the previous night had been pushed to the back of her mind, but now that he sat right across from her, quiet settling upon them both, her thoughts became jumbled once again. How he had pressed against her in Bomsnox's cupboard, his strong arm behind her, his lips brushing her ear, his reassuring words.

"We've had a few adventures lately," she finally mentioned, breaking the silence, pushing thoughts of the cupboard away.

He chuckled quietly. "We have indeed. Although last night was more of an adventure for you than it was for me."

_So he remembers it, too…and he probably thinks I'm an idiot._ "I wasn't that drunk," Dom protested.

Lysander tilted his head. "Tipsy, drunk, call it what you like."

"It matters what you call it!" she said loudly. "And you're the one who gave me all the Firewhiskey anyway."

"There's more in the cupboard over there if you'd prefer that to tea." His cocky grin blazed across his face and Dominique got the overwhelming urge to hit him.

"I'm not a drunk!" Dom exclaimed.

"I'm not calling you one," Lysander countered.

The whistle of the tea kettle punctured the growing argument and he hopped to his feet. Lysander pulled down two mugs from the cabinet and started pouring the tea.

Dom eyed his back nervously, taking in the broad shoulders, narrow hips, muscles taut beneath his navy blue t-shirt. It was the most informal thing he'd worn, and yet he looked as good as he always did. "Were you flirting with me last night?" she blurted out. The second the words left her lips, she felt her insides contract.

The stream of water stopped, Lysander's hand frozen on the handle of the kettle. He slowly pivoted to face her, devilish look fixed on his face. "Excuse me?"

She licked her lips. "You…you heard me," Dom insisted.

He set the kettle back down on the stove and took a few steps towards the table, mugs of tea forgotten. "What would make you think that?"

Dom couldn't read his tone, but having gotten herself into this mess, she was determined to fight her way out. "You said I was pretty," she argued, raising an eyebrow.

He raised an eyebrow back, as if to say 'challenge accepted.' "You are pretty, Dominique."

Just like the night before, her stomach warmed, and she felt a heavy blush seep onto her face.

"Can't a man tell a woman she's pretty without being accused of flirting?" Lysander inquired, once again taking a seat in the chair across from her.

Dom shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant but likely failing. "I guess so. But that's never happened to me before."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes fixed on hers. "Maybe you've been hanging out with the wrong men.

_Dominique leaned back against the cold cement of the hallway wall, warmth snaking through her as Eric's arms tightened around her waist. His lips traced a quick line down her jaw to her neck, and her eyes slid closed._

_'This is stupid, Dom,' she told herself angrily. 'He's got the intelligence of a fruit bat.' But it didn't matter. Eric MacGillan was handsome, popular and, best of all, the Slytherin Quidditch Captain. Victoire wasn't the only one who could get a boyfriend._

_Dom kissed him back, hands in his hair, letting him press her up against the wall. She was only good at school, her saving grace was fighting to be best in her class. For once she just wanted to succeed at something other than homework, to be known for something other than coming in second place every year. She wanted someone to see her for who she was, not just as Victoire Weasley's kid sister. Eric saw her like she was a woman._

_"Hey, Weasley, guess this explains why I beat you by eleven points on today's Charms test," a harsh voice drifted towards them._

_Eric jerked back, arms still around her. "Get outta here, Scamander," he drawled slowly._

_Dom's eyes went wide, her breathing still heavy. "Leave it, Eric. He's not worth it."_

_Lysander strolled towards them, hands deep in his pockets, an irritating grin on his face. "By all means, please go ahead. The less time you spend studying, the easier it'll be for me." The grin grew wider. "Not that it isn't easy already."_

_Eric pressed his lips against her ear, his body back up against her, as if Lysander wasn't even there._

_Dom felt like throwing up, Lysander's words clinging to her, Eric's hands suddenly making her sick._

_"Looks like you're pretty easy yourself," Lysander called, still smiling. "Or maybe you're just hanging around the wrong blokes."_

_She pushed Eric away as hard as she could. "Get off me," she muttered, not even looking at him, hating herself for going back to him again and again. "And you." She narrowed her eyes at Lysander. "You stay the hell away from me."_

Dom shook the memory away, closing her eyes for a long moment. It wasn't the first time he had said those words to her. Where had that boy gone, the one whose words cut into her, whose very gaze made her shrink. It seemed like he was gone, but was he really?

"Dom?"

Her eyes snapped open. "Sorry."

"Look, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just don't think you see yourself the way you are." He got to his feet and grabbed his tea from the counter. "You sure you don't want any?"

She nodded, still watching him, trying to find that cocky boy somewhere beneath this grown man.

"Dominique," Lysander settled back into his chair. "I think you're beautiful. And I'm not trying to flirt." The ghost of a smile reappeared on his face. "Take it or leave it."

Dom glanced up, letting her eyes rest on the sharp planes of his handsome face. "I'll take it."

"Good." A brief nod. "Now, we've got five days before our follow up story is due to Cuffe. If it's not perfect, he'll likely kill us slowly and roast us over a spit."

Still flustered, Dom stared at him. How did he move so quickly from calling her beautiful to discussing their impending doom? And why in Merlin's name was there a parade of butterflies taking up residence in her stomach?

"I'm serious. This is pretty much life or death." Though his face was perfectly serious, she thought she could see his eyes twinkling.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the tiny scrap of paper. "Well then it's a good thing we've got this." She spread it out and examined the words again, grateful for something else to focus on.

"That was quick work snatching that note." He took a drink of tea as she stared up at him.

_Did he really just praise me?_ Dom wondered. "Uh, thanks."

"It took a lot of poise to remember it," he continued. "And to close the door behind us in the office. You did a good job tonight."

She scanned his face, trying to figure out if he was being sincere. There wasn't even a hint of mockery. So that was what it felt like to be praised by Lysander. Sure, he'd been kind to her over the past month as they worked together. It seemed, as time went on, that his harsh, teenage self was gone. But to hear him openly praise her undercover work sent a thrill through her.

Lysander didn't seem to notice how happy his words had made her. "If Bomsnox is really running an illegal gambling ring, that's a huge break," he noted. "We've got to dig up some dirt on Lamonde and see if we can find anything else on the French team that might link back to Bomsnox." Lysander jumped to his feet, looking wide awake, as if he could stay up all night just to start working again.

But Dom must've looked less enthused, because he slowed his rapid pacing and looked down at her with concern. "Tired?" he asked.

Dom's eyes shot towards the clock. "It is two in the morning," she offered. "I don't mean to complain but-"

He raised a hand, cutting her off. "You're right. I kept you out entirely too late last night, not to mention the fact that I did get you just a little bit drunk, and now I've done it again."

"Do you run purely on caffeine?" Dom inquired as he rested a hip against the edge of the sink.

Lysander crossed his arms, quirking another smile at her. "I don't really get tired. But I realize you mere mortals need your seven hours or whatever." He waved a hand dismissively. "If you promise to be in the office by nine tomorrow, you can get about six tonight?"

She smiled back at him reflexively. "Six hours sounds like heaven right about now." Trying to ignore the dull ache in her joints, Dom got to her feet and turned to go.

"Let me walk you out," Lysander called after her, pushing off the counter and trailing behind her into the front room again.

Dom felt his arm brush hers in the dark anteway as he moved ahead of her and felt for the lock on the door. She stopped beside him, arm still touching his as she waited for him to find the lock.

"Blasted thing always sticks," he muttered, jiggling the knob. She started to step back, but Lysander reached across her suddenly, feeling for the light switch, chest against hers. He flicked on the light.

The dim bulb flickered to life, lighting up his face, just inches from hers. His eyes locked onto hers, hazel dark and unreadable, his breath ghosting her cheek. That impenetrable gaze traveled down and settled on her lips. He moved closer, pressing her back into the door.

Dom swallowed hard, almost closed her eyes. And then he stepped away.

As if the moment hadn't happened, Lysander threw his body weight against the door, the lock finally clicking open. "There we go," he muttered, yanking the door handle.

Dom felt the tingling in her stomach begin to ebb away slowly, but his eyes were on her again.

Lysander pulled the door back another inch or two and leaned against it. "You sure you want to go? I did promise I'd take you home." The devilish grin was back.

Her face blazed with heat at the memory of the night before, and how she'd assumed he wanted to take her back to his flat. Now here she was, standing in his flat, and she was fairly certain he'd almost kissed her.

But no, she had to be imagining it, all of the tension between them. It was just a figment of her overactive mind. "Shut it," she muttered finally, stepping into the doorway and trying to ignore her proximity to his wiry frame.

"Good night, Dominique," he said softly.

"Good night." Another day, and she was even more confused. Would Lysander Scamander ever make sense?

Author's Note: So much tension! What's going to happen?! Will they _ever_ actually kiss? You'll have to wait and see ;) Please leave a review! I love the feedback...tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what you're curious about. I won't be able to update as frequently going forward but I do hope to keep up with it as much as possible, so don't lose hope!


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